I Remember You Were Beautiful When I Met You Yesterday.

Between pastels and the dark chartreuse sounds we used to brew up at night beneath the sheets and judgments. I can tell that your hair doesn't smell of smoke as much and your skin's pigment has faded into a deep pale. It sounds like you. It really does. Sober eyes really does wonders for you and yours. But I wanted to make it clear that there are levels of love I can't deny I still reminisce about. Your sensations. Your hands. Your warmth. And everything that you used to use against me. Second measures are little, to non existent. Catch me. Help me breath when I reach for you. Call home for me please, because I don't get reception under your thumb. It get quite lonely around here. Tell them I'll send cards.

I Burn

I burn for the reckless abandonment that we maintain

I burn for far moments that stand alone

I burn for the right

I burn for however long I choose

I burn for those who don't

I burn for fuck

I burn for religion

I burn for joy

I burn for sight, sound, and accumulation

I burn for desperate measure

I burn for rebelliousness

I burn for fuck

I burn for children

I burn with cancer

I burn. I burn. I burn.